


Colors of safety

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent & Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alpha Derek, Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Stiles-centric, Werewolves are still a thing, and sheriff stilinski knows about them, because I'm the Goddamn Queen Of Everything's Implied, glosses over everything, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 09:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: If safety was a color these would be it





	Colors of safety

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt #283: uniform, at [Fullmoon ficlet](http://fullmoonficlet.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Comments, kudos and constructive critism welcome; if you're going to mock my titles give me a better one ~~pretty please~~

When Stiles was little seeing the sand colored shirt and the green dress pants lying on the floor was a sign his dad was home and would read him stories and play with him. When he got a little older he learnt that their absence caused his mom distress - some times more than others - in turn making him try to come up with things to distract her. It got to the point where she’d brought him to an elderly man in a white lab coat who’d poked at him with fingers and needles and before Stiles could understand what was happening his mother was given an orange bottle and he had to take a disgustingly smelling pill every day.

When his mom got sick they were protection against her deteriorating mind, the bulwark against her raised voice spitting accusations at him he was too young to understand and should’ve never have had to have heard from her mouth.

After her death Stiles learnt of something new as the stench of alcohol mixed with his father’s smell on the fabric, and while it still held the comfort it always had it was mixed with a sense of unease that would only alleviate when his words weren’t slurred.   
     On those days - where his dad could barely speak and he fell asleep at his desk - Stiles went to his best friend’s house. On one such night arms reminding him of his mother wrapped around him, enveloping him in purple and something flowery holding him tight until he’d cried himself to sleep. The next morning she’d marched through the Sheriff’s front door like an avenging angel in her rumpled scrubs still stained by tears and snot wielding her rage like a flaming sword as she gave the man a stern talking to.   
     It had taken time but eventually the smell of alcohol faded from the shirts and dress pants.

By the time Stiles was sixteen seeing his father’s back was no longer cause for panic attacks, however it was still cause for the way his insides twisted making it impossible to eat or drink before he could swing by the station and talk to him or the cruiser was safely back in their driveway. Endless nights where he was left alone with his own thoughts and long days where sometimes even Scott couldn’t distract him from the worry and anxiety.

* * *

It’s been years and miraculously they’re all still alive and kicking, they’ve managed to grow into something that’s as close to “pack” as a group of misfit humans suddenly thrust into the supernatural are like to ever be. After the epic shitstorm that had been the Nogitsune Derek had managed to bully Deaton into giving the _actual_ answers and with a minimum of research they’d been able to harness Lydia’s banshee powers and somehow revive the Nemeton, thus putting the town back under its protection.

It had made it possible for all of them to scatter, follow their dreams for a while before they all inevitably ended up back home where their alpha was awaiting them with his new house, an open door policy and a steady job as a deputy.   
Stiles had walked through the front door of Derek’s house and never left, six months in going to sleep in Derek’s bed and only going back into the guest room a week later to strip the bedding off the bed to wash it.

~x~

Stiles still worries but he hides it behind smiles and distractions when he takes small hands in his, leading them through the station doors to bring their dad and grandpa lunch, something unclenching in his gut at the sight of the sand and green uniforms.


End file.
